


Shattered Pieces

by BlossomingRosebud



Category: Lab Rats (TV 2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Courage, Drama, Dubious Morality, F/M, Family, Family Issues, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Non-Graphic Violence, Redemption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6777298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomingRosebud/pseuds/BlossomingRosebud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A blessing or a curse?  Until now, the bionics endowed upon triplets Adam, Bree, and Chase Davenport have seemed more like the latter: a liability, a hindrance, a foreboding secret.  The purpose was of such parts was nothing more than to save their lives.  But there is one man, a certain crime boss by the name of Victor Krane, who has a new vision for the potential of fusing man with machine - the creation of a living weapon.  And at this rate, nothing will stop him.  A revolution is rising - with or without the involvement of three measly Californian teenage bionics.  But whether they like it or not, their peaceful, slightly encumbered world is destined to be turned upside down until it crumbles to dust.  Will they rise to the occasion?  Or will they fall along with their world...and their family?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a complete alternate universe of Disney's Lab Rats. I've kept the basic characters and setting and pretty much changed the whole plot from birth onwards. How exactly, you may ask? Well, you must read to see....

Breathe in.  Breathe out.

That was all her mind could manage to tell her to do.  She tried to stay calm…tried to stay conscious…but what came out was just a broken, choked sputtering.  Her tattered lungs that had suffered from pneumonia only a few short months earlier were quickly giving out on her.  Her head grew light…her skin paled.  Her stomach crunched once more.  Why hadn’t the contractions stopped?

Her gaze drifted limply to the side at the man anxiously clenching her hand, as if somehow, if he held it tight enough, she wouldn’t leave.  Her husband’s broad, dark face was drenched in sweat, the worry all too apparent.  The outside world was a discombobulated buzz, as doctors and nurses hurried to do whatever they could, but it was to no avail.  It was not enough.  The machine pumping oxygen into her lungs was not enough.  She knew that very well.

“It’ll be okay, Brianna,” the man muttered in a hoarse voice over and over again, more to himself than even to her.  Could she still hear him?  Her eyes were glazing over…oh, why did it have to be three of them?  It was too much; the doctors told them so.  They were advised to abort one or two just to save the others.  Her health just wasn’t up for it; the accursed pneumonia took too great a toll on her body.  But of course, Brianna would have none of it.  She was going to have her triplets, and she did…prematurely.  It was a full three months too soon.  The doctors didn’t have much hope for them, either.  Silently Douglas cursed the wind: was he going to lose his children _and_ his wife?

Brianna started coughing violently again, and a nurse hurried to take the oxygen mask off, lest it choke her.  Her head throbbed, consciousness was slipping…but she held on to her husband’s hand even more tightly.  Her sweat-drenched face gazed over to him with a feeble smile.  “Douglas…” she rasped in between coughs.

“You’re going to be fine!”  he insisted once again.  What a beautiful lie.

But Brianna was not deterred; it was as if she didn’t hear him.  “You’re a good man…” More lies.  He knew now he was nothing more than a deadbeat who hasn’t had a steady job in two years.  He didn’t take the position in his brother’s company because of pride…should he have done it?  Would this have happened if they had more money?  They could have had better food, better vitamins, better healthcare…could things have been different?

Of course, Brianna thought nothing of the sort.  He knew that, though he might not believe it.  She just gave him her sweet smile, more like the one he fell in love with, even as her eyes drifted into sleep… “Take care of them, please…”

She never woke up again.

 

* * *

 

With a heavy sigh Donald Davenport hung up with fourth business call that morning.  Even at home, work followed him like nails to an electromagnet.  He had made it clear that he was going to be home for a few days.  His brother needed him, he said.  This is a difficult personal time, he said.  But no, the most important thing was the hot-shot Japanese tech giant coming in this Thursday to take a look at his new robotic arm for factories, the one designed to self-repair in case of damage.  The idea was huge, and just a couple short weeks earlier, Donald was acting as giddy as a nerdy schoolboy over the deal.  It was a big deal for a small, emerging tech company like Davenport Industries to get the attention of a giant like this.  But now, needless to say, the occasion had become more of a burden, given those “personal” circumstances. 

Donald peeked over into the living room to find his brother, Douglas sitting on the couch, brooding and pensive as he stared at the black TV screen.  He’s been doing this for a while now.  Was that normal?  Donald wasn’t too sure…he’d never exactly lost someone quite like that before.  Granted, they did lose their mother a few years ago, but that wasn’t the same.  They were both upset, but they got over it quick enough.  She had been sick for a long time; they saw it coming.  Brianna, on the other hand, was still quite young and vivacious – before the pneumonia, that is.  However, after a long and grueling premature birth…she just slipped.  It had to be hard; Donald had never been married before, but he heard it made you pretty close, a scary enough thought to convince the young entrepreneur that he should never marry. Ever.  Well, yeah, he had girlfriends from time to time, but never marriage.

Donald contemplated on whether or not he should intervene.  Maybe turning on the TV would help?  Seeing Douglas just stare at the blank screen was a tiny bit disconcerting.  How long would he be like this?  It’s been almost two weeks already, and the funeral was three days ago.  Wasn’t that funeral supposed to be the part where you said some words, honored the person, and then ceremonially ‘let go’?  And therein lay another matter. Douglas didn’t know it yet, but Donald actually did pay for the whole thing – the funeral, that is.  They were supposed to all share the cost, but Douglas was broke, and Brianna’s family didn’t have much, either, not that they cared.  Her parents never did like him all that much.  It was a bit of an odd situation, though; ever since Biostar Labs shut down, Douglas had been unable to find a steady job.  Donald had offered him a position at Davenport Industries, but he refused.  He did, however, ask for money from time to time.  Of course, Donald was not actually that keen on having his older brother as an employee, either…but it seemed like the “family” thing to do.

“So…I think there’s a game on,” Donald hesitantly sidled his way to the couch where Douglas sat.  Lame start?  Yes, but he had to try _something_.

“Not into sports, Donny,” Douglas countered, dry and unamused. 

Well, he called him by the old nickname; that was a good sign.  “Yeah, you’re right.  Let’s see what’s on Science!” Donald swopped in enthusiastically and picked up the remote, flipping to the channel that was their traditional favorite.  “Hey, _How It’s Made_ is on!  Does that sound good?”  Donald gave himself a mental high-five.  They used to watch this kind of stuff all the time as kids.  They would break down things they saw done on TV (even the crazy stuff) and build it themselves; they sure were an interesting duo, bound for trouble consistently.  He remembered one time when they set off some magnesium reaction that went haywire and accidentally blew up their neighbor’s flower bed.  They must have given their single mother some gray hairs - but boy, those were some good times.

But now, Douglas’s stare was quite humorless, casting a gloomy glance back at his little brother that made it clear he was not “in the mood.”  After a few seconds of awkward silence, he spoke.  “They say Chase has permanent brain damage.”

The reference back to the cold facts about his hospitalized children left Donald at a loss.  So _that’s_ what he was thinking about.  But what then? What could he possibly say?  No worries, those babies are probably going to die soon anyways?  They kept getting updates from the doctors, but none of the reports were that good.  The circumstances of their premature birth had left them frail and underdeveloped.  In the slight chance that they did live, they would all be disabled severely.

But Donald was saved the task of having to answer; Douglas continued, “I don’t know what to do, Donny.  I promised Brianna I would take care of them, but I’ve done nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.  And those incompetent doctors can’t do _anything_ , either, except state the problem.  Adam has muscular dystrophy; Bree’s heart is too weak – but they won’t give her a pacer until they know it would be worth the trouble! They won’t do it!  I’m stuck here while they slip.  They’ll go like she did…” Douglas shook his head at the thought, his hands growing tense as the worries formed into words.

“Well…maybe it’s for the best, you know?  They can’t exactly live well if they don’t die…” Donald reasoned, although he soon realized that those were very much not the right words.

“What!? You can’t be serious!  I can’t just _let_ them _die_.  You’re just like those doctors are!  You don’t care; you never do.”

“Whoa, wait!  I do!  Really!” Donald frantically tried to defend himself.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  I just mean that you got to let things happen, sometimes.  Go on! Live life!  Don’t just…just _sit_ there and blame everyone else!”

Douglas shook his head slowly and gave a bitter laugh.  “Of course.  You are always telling me how to live my life.  But you never really cared…you weren’t even upset when mom died.  Just cold - cold as your precious little machines.”

“But…we _knew_ she was dying!” Donald protested feebly.  Were they not on the same page, even then?  He hadn’t noticed, exactly… “And don’t say I don’t care!  If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting there right now!  I give you money; I give you food; I offer you a job…and what thanks do I get?  Nothing!  You just take it…and…and pout!  Like you’re doing right now!  And why?  Oh, I know why.  Because you’re _jealous_.  Yeah, I said it!  You know it’s true!”

Douglas rose up out of his seat in a huff, his dull eyes now enflamed with emotion.  “Oh, I’m sorry I offended you and your precious _Davenport_ Industries!” he mocked.  “You think I haven’t been trying?  It’s not _my_ fault that Biostar shut down!  At least I still cared about what’s important!  Brianna was everything to me, but _you_ wouldn’t know.  Every relationship you had you dumped like a sour potato because you couldn’t commit.  And you hardly ever visited Mom in the hospital.  Face it, you care about but work and your stupid tech toys!”

“Yeah?  Well…I would like to see _you_ try to do something useful!” Donald spat back out, with his brother already on his way to the door. 

“Well, maybe I will, Donny!  Maybe I will!” And with that, Douglas stormed out and slammed the door behind him for good.

 

* * *

 

The offices at Davenport Industries were a bustle and blur of activity that Thursday.  Not one of the building’s 38 employees were idle; everyone was running around, getting ready for the Japanese executives set to come in that afternoon.  By some terrible luck of theirs, the men had arranged to board an even earlier plane that day, making the meeting time to be a full three hours earlier than previously scheduled.  Apparently, they had other urgent business they needed to attend to.

CEO Donald Davenport himself was fully engaged in the frantic preparations.  This was crazy!  Whoever thought a person arriving by plane could possibly be _early_?  As of now, he looked back over all the blueprints.  Did they look professional enough?  Was it neat?  Did it sound “smart”?  Oftentimes Davenport had made no reservations about bragging over his company.  Though small by definition, they were growing.  The new building was in a great area of town and boasted one of the most sleek, modern looks around.  They had new equipment, the latest technology…and plenty of debt.  But that was of no matter.  In Donald Davenport’s mind, they were already on the path to being an empire.  They even had a partnership with a manufacturing warehouse a few blocks away.  He planned on buying that place one of these days…

But now, those modern furnishings looked cheap.  The technology was outdated.  The equipment was inadequate.  Surely, it could not compare to what these visiting gurus of technology had seen. 

“Hey Fred, where are those prototypes!?” he finally left the prints and called out to his assistant.

“I have them, but I can’t find the aluminum one.  You know, the one that moves?”

Donald gripped his hair anxiously.  That was the most important one!  “We need that!  Go find it!”

“I don’t know, I think Tom was taking some pictures…”

Presently the secretary, Abigail, came onto the scene.  “Mr. Davenport?  You have a call…”

“No!  I’m extremely busy!” he barked.  “Fred, don’t we still…”

“It’s important, Davenport,” Abigail persisted.

“Just a second!  Fred, go to the storage closet and find the old aluminum prototype.  I might have enough time to modify it into the new model.”

“But Davenport…”

“Wait!  I think I remember Mitchell using it.  I’ll go…”

“Donald!  It’s the police!”

The room froze as Abigail screeched out the identity of the caller.  Anxiously Donald took the phone, feeling the eyes of his employees also anxiously resting upon him.  The police?  Why?  Did something happen?  Did they do something wrong?  Did he miss some building code somewhere? They didn’t have time for that!  Maybe it was about the Japanese executives.  They could be frauds, or embezzlers, or…

The initial fears faded away as he heard the report.  Also vanishing were the faint hopes that nothing was really wrong; that is was something normal or routine.  The look of shock grew as he listened on; only fragmented questions were asked in clarification…the reality of the tasks of minutes before crumbled to dust.  He hung up the phone stunned.  “Guys…I have to leave.  Fred, you’re in charge.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Questions erupted from all across the room after that.  “Why? What’s wrong?  What did they say?  What happened?  But, they’ll be here in a few hours!”

Donald was at a loss for words at first.  “It’s…personal, actually.  The company’s fine…but, it was about my brother…” he hesitated.  Should he tell them?  Everyone wanted to know…

He sighed heavily.  “No, I’ll stay for the meeting.  This is more about him than it is about me, anyways.  It’s fine, really.  I’ll leave right afterwards.”

He ended it there, prompting the employees to reluctantly go back to work.  All the while, Donald struggled to focus while his emotions were raging.  Why?  Why did he do this?  He was upset, sure…but that didn’t mean Douglas was crazy!  But it couldn’t be that bad.  The police will find him soon enough, and everything will be fine…well, except for Douglas’s apprehension.  Would they send him to jail for that?  They were his kids…but if they died because of this?  And then, he did destroy a $20,000 piece of equipment…

Donald was disrupted from his thoughts by the realization that Abigail was still standing there, looking expectantly at him.  “You want to know, don’t you?” he sighed.

“Well, yes, I kind of would.  What happened?  Did Douglas do something?” she asked.

Reluctantly Donald averted his attention to her.  They were slightly close…they used to date before he broke up with her last year, hence her knowledge of who “his brother” was.  “Well…you might not believe it.  I think I mentioned his kids?  The triplets?” she nodded.  “He stole them!  He broke into the hospital, and he stole them like the genius he is.  The police are looking for him, and they want me for the investigation.  He’s a fugitive now with those kids…” he sighed in distress.  “Well, if they had any chance of surviving before, I doubt they’ll live to see tomorrow now.”


	2. Of Twisters and Hamsters

_17 years later…_

“Hey, has anyone seen my calculator?” Chase called out as he searched through the sofa cushions frantically.  “I need it!”

Already the plump red apparitions were strewn across the floor as the wiry 17-year-old dismantled the living room of their home.  His messy short brown hair was even more disheveled than usual.  For Christmas, he was asking for a nice little safe to put all his stuff in.  Between Adam, Bree, Leo, _and_ Mr. Davenport, he couldn’t find anything anymore.  Things were never where he left them.

Casually, Adam strolled up behind him while crunching on a bag of chips, calm but rather imposing.  Chase’s brother was older than him by just a few minutes, yet he was taller by a full four inches.  “The gray and white one?” he asked.

Chase’s head shot up excitedly.  “Yes!  Yes, that one!”

“I took it,” he popped another chip in his mouth. 

Immediately Chase’s hands shot up to his head and gripped his hair.  “What!?  I already told you – if you need a calculator, use the Casio.  That was my TI 84-Plus, a _graphing_ calculator!  It’s important!  It’s _expensive_!  Where did you put it!?”

“Hey, calm down,” Adam gestured his hand down and suppressed a sigh.  It really did beat him why Chase got so uptight over those gadgets and well, _everything_.  “I was just doing some measurement stuff for Tasha.  It’s in the kitchen.”

The kitchen!  Chase picked up and fairly ran to the accursed place where his baby was left.  It could have gotten wet…or dropped…or broken…or…

But lo and behold, it was there alright, just with a bit of food on it, the remnants from the preparation of last night’s dinner.  It was just chicken & rice, and not something more liquid-like.  Wiping it off anxiously, Chase hastened onwards out of the kitchen, only to be stopped by the sudden appearance of his sister, Bree.

“And just _why_ do you need your calculator, might I ask?” she asked in an accusatory tone.

“For a math riddle, what else?” he replied excitedly.  “I found this cool site online with all these…”

He was cut short by Bree placing her hands on both his shoulders dramatically, her nicely curled brown hair falling from her shoulders and into his face.  “Chase!  It’s _summer_!  Now it not the time to be doing math!” she removed her hands and starting waving them dramatically.  “You guys!  Why in the world would you stay inside!?  It’s a beautiful day; we got to go _do_ something!  Something exciting!  So Chase, you need to stay off the computer, and Adam...” she stomped over and snatched his bags of chips away.  “Stop standing around and eating!  Start _moving_!” she shook her head.  She loved her brothers, but they could be such lame idiots sometimes.  Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t want them around.  After all, she was just outside herself dribbling around a basketball in the little “court” that was their driveway and a goal.  But then, that got boring after a while with just one person.

“Oh, but it’s too hot to go outside!” Adam complained, snatching his bag of chips back.

Well, Bree couldn’t argue with that so much.  It was quite the sunny California day right now, with highs reaching the upper 90’s.  Already her own usually fluffy hair was matted with sweat, which was quite gross, by the way.  She might want to take a shower soon – for as much as she liked activity, it could not be said that Bree was necessarily in love with the outdoors or the heat and bugs that came with it.  She really just wanted to _go_.  She wanted to _live_.  If only she wasn’t stuck staying _here_.

“Hey, here’s an idea!” Chase lit up.  “How about a game?  Like Monopoly? We have the time!” he offered, although he kind of already knew the answer.

“Really, Chase?” Bree droned.  “A board game? That’s _way_ too long. Not while the sun’s out!”

“Yeah, I’m with Bree here,” Adam agreed.

“Come on; you guys haven’t even played in like, _forever_.  Maybe you might actually have _some_ fun!  Hey, I’ll ask Leo!” He ran over to accost their little step-brother of 15, who was just coming from the kitchen with a Pop-Tart.  “Leo, would you like to play Monopoly?”

“Yeah…” he hesitated.  “Except, you always win.  And it takes three days.  So, no, not this time,” he let him off bluntly.

“Oh, I’ll play with you Chase,” Tasha offered as she came onto the scene, a basket of laundry on her hip.  “But I can only play for a little bit; I have to go to the station tonight for a sound-check,” she explained, referring to her job as a weather anchor on Channel 5, the local news.  Even now, though she played the role of a housewife doing chores, she had her makeup put expertly on, and her African-American black hair was straightened in a neat bob about her head.  Being on television had put her in the habit of looking like that all the time.

“Tasha, you can’t just play Monopoly for a _little bit_.  It takes time!  If you cut it short, you miss the whole dynamic of the game!” Chase protested.

“Well, I suppose I can’t, then.  You guys have fun!” she let them off as she proceeded to the laundry room, her original destination.  It did disconcert her slightly that the kids still called her “Tasha”, but then again, they did often refer to Donald as “Mr. Davenport,” or as Leo often said, “Big ‘D’.”  Rarely could he just be “dad.” She supposed they just never had that close kind of relationship with their adopted father, but she knew he did about as best he could, considering the circumstances.  She had only been around for about two years herself, since marrying Donald, but she believed they were all getting along well.  Plus, she was glad that her son, Leo, finally had some siblings to be with.

Meanwhile, the sibling gathering had already made an unspoken determination that they would still do _something_ together.  So, when Adam gave his first drop-of-a-hat suggestion, they went ahead and agreed.

“I got it!” he exclaimed.  “Let’s do Twister!”

Well, it sure did beat sitting down, and they could stay in the air-conditioned indoors.  “Sure,” Bree shrugged.

“Great!  I’ll be the spinner!” Adam ran up to get it.  Chase inwardly groaned.  This game always ended up so awkward…and he was horrible at it.  Leo had a similar sentiment, partially because he was even shorter and skinnier than Chase was.  Maybe he beat him a tiny bit in athleticism, but he still couldn’t deny his “toothpick” figure status.

Of course, the game turned out great anyhow.  They all got into it soon enough, as they all possessed some measure of competitive pride.  Tasha came back into the room hearing a discombobulated mix of groaning, shouting, laughing, and gloating.  As she went past them and into the kitchen, where she started putting together a crockpot for their dinner tonight, she gave herself a solemn, contented smile. 

You really could never tell that they weren’t normal.

She remembered the day she first learned the truth about them, and she didn’t believe it then.  She hardly could comprehend the idea now.  Donald had conveniently pushed it off to the last minute, when they were already engaged.  But then, it wasn’t even on his timing.

She remembered the day well.  It was a sunny summer day, and they were all relaxing and spending time together in Donald’s front yard.  Chase and Adam were rough-housing, as they often did, around some landscaping rocks.  None of the rest of them paid much attention…until Chase fell.  He fell off a rock and hit his head hard against the ground.  He was hurt terribly, but not in the way that one might expect.  Sparks were flying…literally.  Visible electric bolts of current emanated from his head and body.  Chase gripped his hair hard and struggled not to scream.  But Tasha was pretty sure she did.  The rest of it came quickly – Donald was not shocked; he knew what was happening.  Bree ran her brother inside; Donald to his lab to fix him.  Tasha and Leo were left waiting outside.  It was so terrible and confusing…but Chase made it through okay.  A few hours later, he looked as if nothing had happened, save a bruise on the side of his head.  Tasha demanded to know what was going on; when they were alone, Donald told her everything:

For starters, Chase was bionic.  So were Adam and Bree.  They were all infused with these nanites that formed into electric and mechanical parts in their body, making them human with a touch of machine.  What happened to Chase was that some nanites got crushed in the fall and caused him to short circuit.  Short circuit!  It seemed unbelievable at the time.  How did they get like this, you may wonder?

Well, seventeen years ago, when the triplets were just a few months old, they were stolen from the hospital by their biological father, Douglas Davenport.  Tasha already knew that part of the story; she knew about how he disappeared and the kids were found alone.  She knew about how Donald adopted them, with their mother having already died in the process of their premature birth.  What she didn’t know was what happened in between.  Donald didn’t know either, exactly, but what he conjectured was that his brother somehow saved his baby children from death or disability in a crazy, but effective, way – bionics.  Using nanite technology, some kind of tiny, microscopic computer chips, he unobtrusively built the bionic parts inside their bodies.  Organs that were underdeveloped got reinforced.  It was different for each of them: although nanites were present throughout their entire bloodstream, Adam had bionics particularly in his muscle system, Bree in her heart and lungs, and Chase in his brain.  Now, they could function like any other human, although curiously, Adam was now particularly strong, Bree was a quick runner, and Chase was smart. 

Donald claimed that he didn’t know until after he got them, when they had queer reactions to some of his inventions, particularly power sources.  Being exposed to electricity made their bionic features go hyperactive.  Being a scientist himself, Donald conveniently had a lab in his home, which he used to test them.  That’s when he found out that nanites were literally flowing through their blood.  Knowing that Douglas’s old job at Biostar had involved some bionic research, the conclusion came naturally.  From then on, he let the kids live normally…with limitations.  They never went to the doctor or the dentist. All required documents of the sort he had forged.  The only other person that knew the secret was his Aunt Glenda, who used to babysit the kids when they were younger.  They never went to summer camps or other long trips away from home; there were too many risks.  As Tasha had just witnessed, their bionics were not perfect; things could go wrong.

The news was shocking…even infuriating.  How could he keep this a secret?  What Douglas did, no matter what the reason, was certainly illegal.  Now he was breaking the law, too!  Was that right?  Was it good?  Was this best for them?  But still…she knew why he did it.  What would their future look like if the government knew that Adam, Bree, and Chase had been bionic?  Would they be free, still?  Or would they be contained?  The news was deeply upsetting…Tasha almost left him, but here she was.  She couldn’t walk away now.  It was a hard secret to keep, but it could be done.  It worked this far, hadn’t it?  Tasha couldn’t deny it, though – she loved Donald, and she loved his kids.  Now, it was as if they were her children as well.  Whatever happened all those years ago, they were alright now.  They were a family; who could take that away?

 

* * *

 

“Douglas!”

A lone call roused the discombobulated scientist from weary sleep.  He rubbed his aching eyes and looked down to the disorganized conglomeration of work on the desk on which he slept.  How long had he been out of it?  He groaned.  Krane was going to kill him if he didn’t get this stupid project done.  He wondered what time it was, not that it mattered much.  He had been in the underground lab for weeks, always accompanied by the same, dim lighting.  One lost track of night and day in a place like this.  Someone with a job like his rarely got to see sunshine.  He almost missed the old Komolov mansion, where he got to work above the ground, but then again, that was selfish reasoning.

“Yes?” he groaned dangerously in response, blinking his eyes awake to see the intruder.  It was Fernando, one of the other scientists.  Douglas’s expression softened; they were in the same class of people around here, comrades by association. 

“Krane’s coming by in a few minutes.  He wants to see your progress,” Fernando gave an amused grin.  “I just wanted to make sure you’re awake.  Good thing I stopped by, huh?” he raised his eyebrows and left in a way that said ‘Gee, I’m glad I’m not you right now.’  The room was a mess.  They lived in a broad network down here, an underground headquarters of sorts.  Numerous rooms had been dug out with hallways interconnecting them, plus a few large laboratories, among other things, the seeming human equivalent of a prairie dog’s abode.  Other branches of the complex featured production facilities, training halls, planning rooms, and computer rooms.  And where might they be, you ask?  They were right underneath and within the remains of a long-forgotten government lab, Biostar.  It was now converted into a warehouse, but that was nothing more than a cover for the dugout complex below.  This far under the ground, living space was not included; they lived where they worked.  Falling asleep at a table was not an uncommon occurrence, especially for Douglas.  This particular room was his current residence. 

Douglas desperately tried to make his work look presentable.  His own body was unbathed and his hair stuck up in a million different directions, but personal appearance didn’t matter so much.  Krane was more concerned with the weapon.

Suddenly, the door to the room swung open, and firm, heavy footsteps announced the arrival of the big man himself, the leader, the boss, the one feared and respected by all the numerous peoples who chose to work under him.  With him were three of the trusted inner circle, his guards.  It was Krane, known to all by just the one, intimidating name.  Was it his first name or his last?  No one knew.  All they needed to know was that he was the one in charge.

“Davenport!” Krane was the first to make a sound.  “Tell me what you have here.”

Douglas scrambled to his feet at attention.  “Yes!  Right, my invention.  The disruptor.  Coming along very well, if you ask me!” The positive approach tended to be the best one.

“Show me,” the command was short and to the point.

Douglas brought out the prototype, a wacky-looking bulky gun-like contraption with a muzzle looking like a neon drill.  Laying it to the side, he brought forth his props: a bunch of battery operated toy hamsters that were set into motion moving randomly about his table.  (Yes, it was odd, but you take what you can get)  He heaved and raised up the gun, firing it in their general direction.  The neon drill glowed and spurted out random sparks of blue electricity, which in turn were attracted to the hamsters.  The hamsters made some noises and short-circuited out.  To demonstrate, he went back to try to turn the toys back on, but they wouldn’t.  Their circuitry was burnt.  Douglas looked back at Krane and the guards with a hopeful grin.  “So, what do you think?”

Krane grunted. That probably wasn’t a good sign.  “Can it work on a larger scale?”

“Yes!” Douglas affirmed.  “I mean, it should.  I didn’t have the resources to…errr…test it.”  Seriously, he was given a box random stuff snatched from Walmart and told ‘have fun.’ 

“We’ll test it in practice, then.  So it disrupts electronics – does that apply to everything?”

Yeah, he had a feeling this would be a problem.  “Yes, it’s nondiscriminatory.  The wave only moves forward from the disruptor, but well…you might not want to let the kids use it, just to be safe.”

Krane answered with a stern glare.  Douglas expected as much.  “The ‘kids’, as you call them, are not so young anymore.  They are the head of our force.  They are the future.  Soon, we could all be like them.”

Oh, no.  He wasn’t still considering this, was he?  “Yeah, about that.  You see…we at the ‘science wing’ here doubt that will work.  It’s one thing if they’re kids, but an adult?  Your body might not accept…”

“Bionics are the future!” Krane interrupted with an angry shout.  Yeah, Douglas should know better than to say anything.  So what if Krane wanted to implant himself with bionics?  His body.  Still, Tesla and Rock were not that stable, as it was.  Douglas responded simply by averting his eyes.  It was insanity…how everything in his past followed him.  The lab…the bionics…it was all here.  He was forever a part of it.  But now, he just did as Krane desired.

Still, he knew his kids were far more advanced than Tesla or Rock ever could be.

Krane continued into his speech once again.  “A bionic army is exactly what we need.  Just you watch.  This is how we take back Russia…and America.  Now you,” he directed his gaze back firmly on the scientist.  “Fix it so that your device is more controllable.  Any problems will be your problem.”

And with that, he left, and Douglas went back to work.  It was the only thing he could do in this mole-like existence.  But he didn’t hold animosity against Krane.  Douglas chose to be here.  Really, it was the only place he could be.  He lost everything – his wife, his kids, his brother.  But then again, he never had Donny in the first place.  This underground crime network, the mighty Koschei, was the only place for him.

He couldn’t go back now even if he tried.


End file.
